Breaking Distance
by QueenOfWonderland
Summary: After reality smacks him straight in the face, George is at his breaking point. How can he continue living without his twin? He's having a hard time coping with Fred being gone. Rated M for chapters to come. Attempted suicide, cursing, and a heartbroken George. :'c
1. Memories

**Author's Note: I do not own Harry Potter, but I think I'd love to. Honestly, I love the twins, and it's killing me writing this. Poor George. :'c Anyways. I hope you enjoy, and please leave reviews. They make my world go round. C: **

Lifeless brown eyes. Slightly shaggy flaming red hair, that is in desperate need of a trim. A grim mouth, set permanently in a straight line. Undernourished body. Still have the muscles, though. But definitely need more of Mum's food to fatten me up. She would have a cow if she saw how thin I am. I slightly chuckle at the thought of Mum fussing over me, like she did when…

_No. No more thinking like that, George, _I scold myself silently. I refuse to think of the reasoning behind why I live in depression, why it's a constant battle getting up in the mornings, occasionally opening the shop on days where I feel I can somewhat handle people. The shrink I was forced to go to always tells me to try and forget the past. But how can I when everything I am reminds me of the brother I lost? I have the exact same features as him, right down to every freckle. I am the exact replica of the person that meant the most to me. But then he was taken away from me all too soon. How can I keep living not having anyone to look forward to seeing? When I have no right to continue my life, knowing that Fred's was cut too soon? I outlived my twin. How could this be? I didn't have any right to. I should've died with him. Or he should've continued living; not me.

I sigh as I walk away from the full-length mirror, to my wardrobe where I comb through my clothes, deciding on what to wear. I end up choosing black trousers, and a long-sleeved black sweater that Bill bought me for Christmas. _Your first Christmas without Fred, _a voice in my head whispers. I pinch my eyes shut and shake my head. This damn voice has been in my head since Fred passed, and it strangely sounds exactly like Fred. It drives me nuts, and I don't know how I can handle it most of the time. I haven't told the head doctor about it. I figure that the voice is the only thing I have left of Fred. And if I tell the doctor, he'll try to take it away from me.. No.. No… that mustn't happen. So for now, Freddie (the voice) will be my dirty little secret. Am I crazy for it? Perhaps. Do I care? Not one bit. It's that voice that is keeping me sane.

I eventually go to the loo to take care of all that I need to take care of, with a limited amount of looking into the mirror. Once I am done, I go down the staircase to the Joke Shop, and slowly trudge my way to the door. I flip the "Closed" sign so it says "Open."

Can't stand still. Always moving. Checking stock. Socializing with the customers that filter in and out periodically. It's a pretty busy day, but I haven't opened in over two weeks. People run out of supplies quickly, and they always come back for more. I restock some of the shelves, when I hear his voice behind me. I spin around so fast I'm sure I will have whiplash for quite some time. I swear to Merlin, I heard his voice. I heard his soft laugh, and I could just see his eyes twinkling with mirth as he looks at me. There he is! He's standing off in the corner, just watching. I cautiously walk over to him, staring the whole time. How could this be?

"F…Fred?" I ask hesitantly. He turns his gaze towards me, and smiles.

"George? Fred isn't here…" I hear the voice quietly whisper behind me. I jump and gasp, and turn around. Hermione is standing there, worry filling her big brown eyes. I stare back at her, desperation surely in my own eyes. Tears well up, and I throw my arms around her. She immediately wraps her arms around me, and rubs her hand up and down my back comfortingly.

"I..I saw him, 'Mione… Fred, right there. In the corner. I didn't imagine it. I'm not crazy… Right? He was there! You saw him, too, didn't you?" I say just above a whisper. Hermione hugs me closer and she says nothing, but I feel her tears falling onto my sweater as I realize my sanity is slowly slipping from me, bit by bit.

I don't know how long I stand there with Hermione in my arms, mourning (once again) the loss of myself. I know I am not sane. I can't find any reason to be. Fred was the one that I did everything with. We finished each other's sentences. We laughed together. We cried together. We pulled pranks together. He and I were one soul, with two bodies. But then one of those vessels broke away completely, leaving the other to break down, piece by piece. It would be better to just shatter all the way, at one time. But no one will let me do that. How many nights have I spent in the flat, thinking about how everything was before the war? And thinking about little things, and big things?

Once I feel I am all cried out, I push Hermione gently out at arm's length so I can get a good look at her. Her eyes are red and puffy from the crying she also did, but I think her crying was because of how crazy I am. Her hair is now a tamable mess, but she looks beautiful. I half-smile at her, and I tell her how nice she looks. She's wearing a blue tank top and blue jeans. She looks so casual. It seems unusual, since I'm used to seeing her in school uniform. I hardly see anyone nowadays, actually. They stop by and visit, but I make no especial effort to make them feel welcome. I like being alone, since that's how Fred left me. Alone. Broken. I know it's wrong of me to take out my feelings on those not involved, but it feels good to get a bit of the anger, frustration, depression, and loneliness out. I hate not having Fred with me.

Every morning it's the same thing. I open my eyes, surrounded by him. His things are still where they should be. In his drawers, his wardrobe. I know he's not coming back, but I'm not ready to let him go… I sit up in my bed, look across the room, and find his bed, identical to my own. I pull myself out of bed, and force myself to go to the kitchen, where pictures of our vacations and other family pictures hang on the walls, and sit on counters. My favorite is a picture of Fred and me on the beach, with our arms around each other's shoulders, while we stand on the edge of the ocean with our swim trunks on, and the sun setting in the background. Our unoccupied hands are waving to the camera, huge grins plastered from ear-to-ear on our faces. I always smile at it sadly when I see it, because deep inside, I know it's the last time I will ever smile like that.

I finally come back to reality when Hermione taps my shoulder, and I realize she's asked me a question. I stare at her blankly, and reply with a very educated, "What?"

She laughs and repeats herself.

"I asked how you were holding up. Do you need any help with the shop?"

"Oh. Well, the holding up bit- I'm holding up the best I can right now, I suppose. A little help with the shop might be nice though, thank you, Hermione."

"It's no problem, George. I like helping out, and I've always secretly been interested in your jokes and pranks and whatnot." She smiles brightly at me, and it's just too much. Too much eagerness, too much happiness. I start to tear up again, and I hang my head low. I know she is only trying to help, but that's what everyone is doing. Unfortunately, it hasn't done anything except make me feel worse. I just want to be alone, but heaven forbid that happen. I set Hermione up at the cash register, and show her how it works. I then stand above the joke shop and overlook everything, once again lost in thought.

"_George! Hey, Georgie-kins, c'mere! I want to show you something." Fred says as he waves me over to the tree. I jog over to him, and kneel down beside him. _

"_Do you remember this tree? It's the first tree we climbed, and when you got all the way up to the top, you got scared, remember? I had to save you. I told you to jump, and that I would catch you. You did jump. And I caught you. Like I said I would. That was the day I told myself I wouldn't ever let anything or anyone hurt you." Fred says, thumb grazing over the bark of the tree. He smiles and drapes an arm around my shoulders. _

"_The good old days, huh, Georgie? I miss them." _

"I miss you…" I say to myself.


	2. Freddie

I turn away from the banister before someone catches me starting to cry again. I seem to be doing that a lot lately. Cry, I mean. But at least it's something. I normally don't have any energy or motivation to do anything since Fred's not around to bother me to do something. I really miss him…

I shake my head and clear my thoughts of my twin. My day will not be dictated by old memories, broken hopes, and crushed dreams. I force a smile on my face, and go back to where all the action is. I manage to somehow get through the day fairly well. I carry on conversations with people of all kinds, and they don't seem to notice the deep sadness I carry with me. I've become really talented at hiding what I'm feeling and I've mastered fake smiles.

Right before closing, I dismiss Hermione after I pay her for the work she's done. She tries to refuse the galleons, but I put them in her bag when she's not looking. I tell her she can have anything she wants from the store, free of charge, for her hard work. She doesn't take anything, but she gives me a long, soft hug before she leaves.

At the door, she turns three-fourths of the way around, hand on the entryway.

"George, I'm worried about you. And I'm worried for you. I just want you to know that I'm always a floo call away, or you can always come over whenever you need to. You're not alone." And with that, she turns on her heel and closes the door quietly behind her.

I stand at the check-out, staring at her retreating form through the window. I know she thinks I am crazy, and that's the only reason she's offering me friendship and help. I'm not a dunderhead. I do know that it's just an act. That's what Freddie tells me, anyways.

I finish closing up the shop, and count the money in the register, check stocks (again,) and finally lock the doors and windows. My feet take me up the stairs, unsure of how I will react this time to the remains of Fred. Hell, as if I know. I plunk down on my bed, and lean my elbows on my knees.

I sit like that for hours, when it happens. My head starts hurting. Majorly. Another migraine, I presume. But I am oh so wrong. It's my lovely friend Freddie.

"_Hey there, George. How are you doing?" _Freddie asks, sounding amused.

"As if you really don't know." I reply curtly. I am in no mood to talk to Freddie right now.

"_Now, is that any way to talk to me? I'm the only thing keeping you sane, if you will recall. I do not like being treated like that, Georgiekins. You know that. So, I will give you one chance to redeem yourself. That chance is now." _

"Demanding little twat, aren't you? I'm doing horrible. Like always."

"_Aw, how sad. You're always so depressing when I stop by. Why is that? And you always sound angered. You're not angry with me, are you, George?"_

"No, I am not angry with you, Freddie." I sigh. "I'm just having a hard time coping with his being gone, that's all."

Freddie laughs.

"_Ah, I understand. I can't say I know how you feel though. I've never had anyone to miss. And even if I did, I wouldn't. What's the point in missing someone? They're not around to care. They're not around to hear your pleas, your cries for them to come back. No matter how hard you try, George, and no matter how badly you wish, Fred's death is irreversible. You just have to live with it." _

"Maybe I don't want to live with it!" I shout. "Maybe I can't! Ever thought of that? Hm? I can't live without my twin, and I swear to Merlin, I can't take this anymore! I can't take you, I can't take the pressure of everyone telling me to just accept it! I can't do this! I can't!" I fall down to the floor on my knees at this point. "I just can't…" Tears fall from my face in a steady rhythm, and they fall against the hardwood. "Don't any of you get that? I can't live without him…" Sobs overtake me now, and my shoulders are heaving. I start hiccupping, and that's when the stream of tears dies down slowly.

I rise off of the floor, and my eyes widen. What is wrong with me? I'm standing in my flat, yelling at a voice that only I can hear. An arrogant voice, at that. I break down into tears easily. I can't feel anything except sadness.

Storming into the kitchen, I look at the calendar I have hanging on the wall to see when my next appointment with Dr. Atherton is.

Good. It's tomorrow. I probably need it.


End file.
